Doshite Ja Nai
by SporkGoddess
Summary: Set 19 years after the 13th Gundam Fight The Fight is now abolished and Neo Japan has been heavily punished for the DG incident, but the council set up to solve problems is largely ineffective. Update: Chapters 7 and 8 now up
1. Highheel Sneakers

Before you read my fic, I would like to say a few things. First off, this is my attempt at a sequel to G Gundam, and the plot is still rapidly evolving. Also, don't be surprised if you are confused at first, because it will take a while to reveal everything. Most of the main characters are connected to the series somehow, but I'm not going to reveal how for a while, although I've made it pretty easy to at least guess.

I'd like to thank all of my friends for helping me work out the kinks and even just for listening to my ideas (you know who you are!)

Oh, one more thing—the title is Japanese for a reason. I didn't just pull random words outta nowhere. XD And I realize that it's awkward Japanese, so if you speak it my sincerest apologies (it was the only phrase I could memorize with the same meaning.)

Anyway… onward!

- SporkGoddess

Doshite Ja Nai

            "Damn, damn, _damn_!"

            The exclamation hadn't been very loud, but it resonated through the area in the same fashion as a pin dropping in a silent room—only a pin dropping wouldn't have as much danger of alerting others as did the swearing.

The dastardly cursing culprit was unaware of this, however; she was too focused on the reason she had said it in the first place. Despite the importance that she keep walking, she paused for a minute to slip her stockinged foot out of the painful high heels that encased them.

"Why do they insist that I wear these damned things?" She muttered, making sure to keep her voice at a whisper this time.However, the second that it took to say that was more than enough time allowed for her to rest, and she was forced to step back into the shoe and continue on her way.

The girl referred to as Midori would have far preferred to wear her normal, albeit _comfortable_ shoes right at this moment. In fact, she had brought it up; pointing out that she'd be more efficient if she were comfortable. But, no, apparently since this was a government building, she was supposed to look her best and "blend in with the crowd."

However, for Midori, this was easier said than done. A nice dress suit and high heels were a good disguise, but one also had to act comfortable in what would be normal-day attire for a worker in this building, and she certainly wasn't doing that. In fact, it was surprising that no one had noticed her vehement denunciation of pumps; but, they were probably too busy (or stupid, she thought savagely,) to really pay any attention to her.

Finally, she spotted him, She knew him even from behind; his bright red hair would have stood out in any crowd. He was her "target," as one might say. Actually, no; today she was just here to converse, not convince. She smoothed her dark hair down and walked up to him.

"The grass is green; spring really must be here." She said, probably a little more loudly than she should have. But, either way it worked; the man nodded to her.

            "I heard the birds chirping as well."

            She smiled, trying to seem casual. "Well, it certainly is nice to hear that. But I'm afraid that I'm here on a more austere term."

            "Oh?"

            "I am on business from your native country, Neo France. They have a problem that needs to be addressed by the council."

            "Very well then, let's step into my office for a bit."

            She followed him into a small room, taken up by a very tidy desk featuring stacked papers and a few framed photos. There was also a elegant leather chair, which Midori sat down upon.

            "My, you've grown, Midori… or should I say, Azami?"

            Azami glanced around nervously, then whispered. "Are you sure we're not being monitored?"

            "No—Neo France has the trust of all. They know that we are too honorable to do anything."

            "Except for this." She laughed."

            "Mademoiselle, we are doing no more than proposing a few ideas. That is the idea of the council, is it not?"

            "True." Azami nodded.

            "I never would have imagined my next meeting would be with the girl I sometimes babysat." He remarked, twirling a few strands of hair.

            "Enough, this is not the time or the place to be reminiscing. I'm here on business, Tori."

            The redhead sighed. "You're not at all unlike your father, you know."

            Her face hardened. "You have no idea how many times I hear that, and how every time the urge to punch the person who said it gets stronger and stronger.

            He chuckled, which annoyed her even more. She decided that she'd better get this over with, before she gave in to desire and severely hurt him.

            "Anyway," (She said this word more pointedly than she probably should have,) "I'm here to check up on how the proposal's coming."

            "So diligent. I finished it."

            "Great. When do you plan on presenting it?"

            He sighed. "Frankly, I don't know if I will. It didn't work the first two times."

            "Third time's a charm."

            "My position could be at risk because of this."

            "Excuse me, Tori, but are you saying what I think you're saying?"

            "First off, it's George. Second, I might be."

            "Apparently you're not Tori, because Tori would not give up on our objective! None of us would!" She almost screamed this, she was so angry.

            "Listen to yourself, Azami. You're acting like it's a cult. I realize that you have strong feelings about this, but being so extreme will get you nowhere."

            The calmness of his voice immensely bothered her. Hell, his whole attitude bothered her. How _dare_ he abandon them like this!

            "Are you saying that you no longer wish to be one of us?" She asked in a low, bitter voice.

            "It's not that, it's just… I don't want to jeopardize my position for something that probably won't even work. We need another plan."

            "Oh, and we all know how easy that is!" Azami snapped.

            Apparently she'd hit home, because George stood up. "You may be my friend's daughter, but I will not be talked to in that tone. If you continue to act this way, I will have no choice but to remove myself from your project."

            "Daughter? The closest thing that I have to a father is Kuroi." Azami growled.

            "I can see that." His voice was tranquil now, almost soothing. "You go back to him, then, and tell him that his daughter successfully chased another opportunity away."

            "I'll do that! Tori is dead to me!" The woman snarled and stood up. She walked—or moreso hobbled—briskly away.

            A day and another tedious trip later, Azami was finally back in Neo Japan. Walking through the streets of Shinjuku was never a fun activity; as poverty clung to even the richest communities of the city. This was because of the Thirteenth Treaty, created in the same year in which Azami had been born. Devised by delegates of every nation, it essentially had placed blame for the chaos and destruction that had taken place in the 13th Gundam Fight upon Neo Japan, which was the country of the Devil Gundam's creation and was also somewhat responsible for its uprisal. However, the other countries involved had only been forced to pay fines. In Neo Japan, not only was the prime minister replaced, but the country had to pay abysmal fines and was pretty much reduced to being one level above a protectorate. The other countries had chipped in on reconstruction, but after that had demanded that, in addition to the fines, Neo Japan pay for the damages inflicted by the Devil Gundam. The treaty had also abolished the Gundam Fight in total, instead forming the council that Azami had just visited and of which George was a member, to solve disputes and generally rule the universe.

             Azami had not been born in Neo Japan, rather Neo Hong Kong (although ethnically she was Japanese), but anyone who visited the ravaged Neo Japan would understand why she'd made the decision to stand up for a country that wasn't even her birthplace. (Perhaps that was why tourism was at an all-time low, she mused in a spur of dark humor.) She, like the other members, had joined the Doshite Ja Nai organization (DJN) in hopes of bringing back the Gundam Fight, which may have desecrated the Earth but at least was more effective than a group of squabbling politicians.

            It was underground, small, and had low funds, but every loyal citizen of Neo Japan supported the group, even if they did not necessarily want the Fight back. It was a ray of light in a dismal place; after all, one of the objectives of the DJN was to give Neo Japan back its dignity and rights.

Finally, Azami arrived at her destination. The headquarters for the DJN were small and well-hidden in a remote section of Neo Japan. Unfortunately, there were low funds (even if they had donations, usually it was not monetary substance as the value was at an all-time low) and security wasn't the best, but they made do with what they could, and so far things had been well-kept within the walls of the building. Someone always was standing watch as well, just in case a tourist accidentally stumbled in. There had been no actual penetrations by enemies, namely because the group was not a very large threat yet. Therefore, once the guard recognized her, it was with ease that Azami entered the main room. She smiled at the sense of comfort that overwhelmed her as she did so, like she had just returned home.

            "Ahh, welcome back, Midori. How did it go?" Right now Akai was on watch duty. Akai was a year older than Azami and also the only other female member of the group, which automatically caused the two girls to be close, as they shared a room. However, the secrecy of the DJN forbid that they know too much about anyone, so Azami didn't even know Akai's real name, just as she knew Azami as Midori and nothing else.

            "I don't want to talk about it." Azami muttered, feeling depression set in. What would she tell Kuroi when he asked her the same question? She had pretty much single-handedly lost the group's only connection to the Council.

            "Oh dear." Akai laughed, running a hand through her blond hair. "That is not a good sign."

            "Yeah."

            "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news… but you're supposed to see Kuroi right away."

            "Oh, _no_." Azami groaned. Akai gave her a curious yet sympathetic look, but then pushed her towards the small partition that served as an office.

            He was sitting at the cheap wooden desk, drumming his hands on the rotting wood. A peeling sticker with "Kuroi, Head Counselor" written on it was stuck to one corner, next to a faded photograph. Unlike George's desk, papers were cluttered and a bed occupied one corner. Not very professional, but if they ever needed to make a good impression, they would simply move the single piece of furniture.

            Unlike the comfy leather chairs Azami had grown rather accustomed to from her trip, the ones in the office were upright and of hard plastic. She sat down without complaining, though, since she didn't want Kuroi any madder at her than he'd have to be.

            "Before I begin, Midori, do you have anything for me?" She tried to study his face; he winked, but that gave nothing away about his mood. By "anything" he meant cigarettes, and Kuroi would have sold his soul if tobacco was involved. A running joke among the DJN was that half of the reason he had people travel abroad was so they could pick him up a few packs at prices that weren't ridiculously inflated.

            Midori smirked at his eager expression, and pulled the two packs that she had managed to procure from her purse.

            "Not the best quality, but it'll manage." She said, holding the two boxes out to him. He reached over and took them, handling them as one might handle a glass ornament or an ancient artifact.

            "Nice work. Unfortunately, it appears that was the only successful part."

            She froze. "You mean you've already heard?"

            "I have. Midori, we'll have to stop sending you if you can't be diplomatic." He frowned

            "I can, sir, really. It's just that he was being stubborn."

            Kuroi laughed. "And of course, you weren't."

            "The sarcasm is not appreciated." Azami informed him. He rolled his eyes.

            "Midori, honey, you're lucky that we're not turning you out onto the streets. We're back at Square One because of you."

            That statement should have deterred her, but Azami was too relieved that she wasn't being kicked out to be emotionally hurt. She tried to hide this fact, though, as she attempted to defend herself.

            "He was going to quit, anyway."

            "He was considering it; you pushed him over."

            "Oh, please, do you really buy that?"

            "Midori, you need an attitude adjustment. We're not going to get anywhere if you keep acting like this."

            "I can't stand it!" Azami's rage continued to bubble inside of her, and finally the steam began to rise as her emotions became boiling hot. "I can't! That council thinks they're SO hot because they saved the Earth! Well, I don't see exactly what the difference is between brown and green grass to a starving man living in a cardboard box! They've never been to Neo Japan, they don't see the things that we see! They don't know what the price of this so-called peace was! And that peace won't even last… one of these days we're bound to fight back! And when we revolt, I'll spit in those politicians' faces!"

            Kuroi stared at her, blinking; then suddenly chuckled. "Easy there, tiger. You're not even from Neo Japan."

            "My parents are." Azami muttered.

            "What is the relevance of that? I thought that you disowned them."

            "I did, but ethnically I'm Japanese and these are my people who are being oppressed."

            "Ah."

            "We're the only hope that they have."

            "Well," Kuroi frowned, "We won't be if you keep this up. Anyway, there's another reason I called you in here."

            "What now?" Azami sighed. Did they have another mission for her already? She'd just gotten back…

            "Asano got in."

            "Oh, is that…" The statement took a few minutes to register, but finally it clicked: "Wait a minute! HE DID!?"

Asano was a young Neo Japanese man who had risen through the ranks in government (or as Azami like to oh-so-eloquently phrase it: "Done some serious ass-kissing"). This was a huge development for Neo Japan, who up until now had had a foreign representative in the Council, an ignorant man who was more interested in the rights of his native country of Neo England than the one he was currently supposed to be standing up for. Sure, there was still a foreign prime minister, but a Neo Japanese representative alone certainly couldn't hurt.

            Kuroi held up his hand. "Hang on, before you get too excited, there are some catches. First off, he's being heavily tailed. I wouldn't be surprised if there are bugs in his office and everything. Also, he'll hardly have any weight in matters. Plus, who's to say he even wants what's best for our country? If he did, he wouldn't be in office right now, right?"

            Azami felt the big balloon of happiness of her deflate, as if someone had popped it. "Yeah, you're right…"

            "Hey now, you act like this a bad thing."

            "Eh?"

            "Midori, this is where we come in. Or should I say, where _you _come in?"

            She narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

            "Hang on, I'll explain in a minute." Kuroi looked at his watch, which he only glanced at out of habit as it had long since stopped working.

            Azami felt irritated, as Kuroi sat there. She watched him take out a cigarette and light it with a cheap match.

            "Smoking is bad for you." She informed him.

            "Eh, we'll all die eventually anyway." Kuroi shrugged. He was a native of Neo Hong Kong, and smoking was one of the bad habits that probably came from a little too much participation in the famous nightlife. He'd tried quitting every so often, but failed.

            Azami was trying to think of a way to respond to this, when someone entered the room. She knew him right away—only one member of DJN was so tall, but before she had a chance to say anything to him, Kuroi stood up and began to speak.

            "Midori, I'm sure that you know Gin. His job is to accompany you on your next mission." He couldn't resist the opening for an old movie quote even in such a serious situation and added: "Should you choose to accept it."

            "What mission would this be?" Azami asked, completely missing the reference. After all, she hadn't grown up with much television, only her mother's romantic "chick flicks" and the occasional martial arts movie with her father.

            "You are to go befriend Asano."

            "What? You've got to be kidding me! I can't just walk up to a random politician and become his groupie!" Azami hissed.

            "I don't recall saying anything about becoming lovers," Kuroi replied. "Although, that would help."

            Her face became oddly contorted, her eyes first widening with shock, and then narrowing with pure anger. Her lips pursed tightly for a few moments as if she was trying to hold her emotions back, but then gave up the fight. She stood up and looked him right in the eyes.

            "Absolutely not! I refuse to stoop to that level! Besides, why not just ask Akai? She's older, and not to mention prettier, than I am, anyway!"

            "Midori, you underestimate yourself." Gin finally spoke. "You don't share a room with the guys; you should hear what they call you."

            "… Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

            "No, but I'm just saying that you're a lot more beautiful than you make yourself out to be. Besides why should that matter? Asano is an intelligent man, it'll take more than a nice ass to win him over."

            "Great." Azami mumbled. "But why bother? You're the one who said what he says won't have any weight."

            "You think that you're the only one working here? Everyone's doing their part to convince other nations. In fact, Akai's going to go patch things up with George de Sand, who's agreed to meet her."

            Azami flushed. _He's just using that to make me feel guilty so I'll agree. And it's working, too. Damnit!_

            "So, are you in?" Kuroi asked.

            "Do I have a choice?" Azami muttered.

            "Nope."

            "Then, I guess… yeah."

            He beamed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw that Gin was looking amused. She resisted the urge to smack them, although it wasn't easy.

            "I knew that you would do it," Kuroi was saying, "you're such a team player."

            "Yeah, yeah. I'd better get a nice Christmas bonus this year."

            "Um, about that…"

            "Oh, nevermind." Azami sighed, running a hand through her hair in a gesture of utter frustration. "So, what's up with Gin? Is he going to play buddy-buddy, too?"

            "Heh heh, there's a reason he's coming…. But, perhaps you're better off not hearing it."

            She glared daggers at him. "Tell me."

            "Um…"

            "I said, tell me!"

            "Well… you see… girls are always more appealing to men when they're taken."

            Azami pursed her lips in a tight line. _… I don't like where he's going with this._

            "And uh…" He struggled to get the words out. "Because of this fact, Gin is going to pose as your fiance."

            "… Fiance? Do you not think he'll note that we're not even eighteen yet?"

            "You're giving him way too much credit. Remember that he's a politician. Besides, I've taken the liberty of making identification for you, which formally states that you are nineteen."

            "What's my alias?" Midori was her codename, and thus could not be used in case anyone discovered that a girl named Midori was in the DJN. Azami hated having two names, but now she'd be having three. Great.

            "You are now Emiko Fukao, the daughter of a modest middle-class family situated in Neo Hong Kong. Your fiance's name is Vladimir Morozov, son of a wealthy family who hails from Neo Russia. Don't ask how you met, that's up to you. In fact, make this relationship whatever you want in order to win Asano over. If you want Vladimir to be abusive to poor Emiko, who was forced into this relationship in order to ensure financial security, then that's fine. Or maybe the more in love Emiko is with Vlad, the more desirable she'll seem to Asano. Choose whichever you want… think of it like being the star of a movie."

            "Or a sleazy romance novel." Azami muttered darkly. She looked over at Gin, to see his feelings on this. But apparently he didn't mind; his expression was tranquil and his eyes were sparkling with bemusement—probably at the interplay between herself and Kuroi.

            "Oh, I took the liberty of asking Prince George—your best friend, I know--to buy you some outfits. The Princess was all-too-happy to oblige, and she even bought you tons of shoes."

            Azami felt her heart sink. "High heels?"

            "Of course, I don't think there's a pair of flat heels in there."

            "Oh _no_," She whimpered, eying her feet, which were still blistered from the other day.

            "I know that you're not looking forward to this, but don't take it out on me."

            Azami turned around in her plane seat and saw that Gin was frowning. They were in first class, and Azami was prepared to not fully turn into Emiko until the plane had landed. She wasn't quite ready to stop being Azami/Midori yet.

            "I'm sorry Gin, I'm just…" She whispered.

            "Would you stop calling me that? Come on, you know my name, Azami." He said softly.

            "To us, you're…"

            "I played with you! Remember?"

            "You know, your father was so much more quiet than you." She mumbled, annoyed.

            "The reason I talk is to fill up the silence that I grew up with. Say it… J…."

            "Fine, Jarek. Happy?"

            "Quite." He said cheerfully.

            She rolled her eyes, and took out a cheap paperback novel. Quite contrary to her personality, Azami loved to read. She normally liked difficult books, but she'd bought one that was more entertaining than it was deep in order to relax before plunging head-first into the chaos that lay ahead of her.

            "Aww, our first fight." Jarek teased. She ignored him, not even removing her face from her book.

            "Oooh, looks like I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

            Curiosity momentarily overtook her irritation. "What are our accomodations, anyway?"

            "You know that funds are low. Fortunately, we found a benefactor, who managed to get us the honeymoon suite."

            "…. Are you serious?"

            "There's a jacuzzi and everything!"

            "Well, then you can sleep in it." She spat.

            "Fine by me." He grinned.

            "You do realize that by the time this ordeal is over you'll be as wrinkled as a prune, right?"

            He shrugged. "Nothing's perfect."

            "Understatement of the year."

            She went back to reading for a few moments, but apparently he couldn't stand too much quiet.

            "So, what's our situation? Happily engaged, or trouble in paradise?"

            "Don't you ever shut up?" She snapped.

            "Ooooh, this kitten's got claws!"

            The ride went on for a while with Jarek rambling on to her, and she wondered how she'd be able to put up with him for all of this time. And act affectionate with him? She wrinkled her nose in disgust at _that_ thought.

            "I got it," he suddenly said. "It's perfect!"

            She sighed and looked up from her book. "This had better be."

            "Trust me. Emiko is a high-class woman who is madly in love with…." He paused, "oh yeah, Vladimir. But he barely gives her the time of day. However, she's charming enough that any guy will wonder 'Why does she devote her attention to that jerk?'."

            "Charming?" She snorted. "You've got the wrong girl for that part."

            He ran a hand through his hair. "You really need to get over yourself, you know. You're only so awkward because you're convinced that you are."

            "Yeah, right. You said we're in a hotel in Neo Hong Kong?" The council was situated in Neo Hong Kong, which was nice and neutral.

            "Yes, but we have a contact there."

            "Oh?"

            "Come on, Azami, you know him. Unless you conveniently forgot that part of your childhood, too."

            "You don't mean…"

            "Yup."

            "He's getting involved from his home? Is he crazy?" Azami asked in disbelief.

            "He's risking everything, including his family."

            She smiled. "I always liked him more than Tori."

            He sighed. "Please don't call George Tori. That's such a sissy name; I can see why he hates it." He cracked a grin. "Although, he _is_ Neo French, so I guess that isn't much of a problem…Kidding, kidding!"

            "Asshole," Azami muttered, resuming her reading.

            Finally they arrived in the new colony of Neo Hong Kong. Their first destination was the hotel, which was far too luxurious for Azami's tastes. She stared at all of the high class members of society, wondering how they could sleep at night while Neo Japan suffered so much. However, her rage was redirected when Jarek instructed her to change.

            "We're meeting our contact." She argued. "I don't have to change until I'm meeting Asano."

            "_Emiko_," he said loudly, "Azami's back in Neo Japan."

            She growled, her cause finally outweighing her hatred of dressing up. "Fine, but you have to change into your suit."

            He laughed. "Touche."

            "And I get to change in the hotel room. You go into the bathroom."

            "You're acting like I want you to do this."

            "You just enjoy seeing me suffer."

            "Heh heh, can't really disagree with you, cutie."

            He grabbed a pile of clothes and went into the bathroom, while Azami stared at the glossy, neatly arranged bags that contained her own clothes, sent by Princess Maria Louise of Neo France. She made a face, and selected the least offensive articles that she could find: a sundress, and sandals with heels that were at least humanly possible to walk in.

            Another bag caught her eye, one of pink and white paper. Curious, she went over and peeked inside.

            "LINGERIE!? IS SHE INSANE!?" She screamed, pushing the bag as far away from herself as she could.

            "Oooh, I like the sound of that!" Jarek yelled.

            "Go to hell!" She shouted back, peeling off her stockings and unbuttoning her tank top.

            "Think of the cause, Azami! And if it happens to be a nice mental image for me, then so be it!"

            She wished that he could have seen her deathglare right at this moment, as she pulled off the dress, leaving her in just a tight pair of lycra shorts and an even tighter tank top. She thought it over, then decided to just wear the dress over this—for today, anyway, she knew that in the future she wouldn't be able to always get away with this. She yanked the dress over her head and made a face at the pastel colors that reminded her of what her mother dressed her in as a little girl.

            "You can come out now." She yelled, although secretly she wished that he could have stayed in there forever. Luck was not with her, however; he opened the door, and she saw that he was wearing a collared shirt and a nice pair of pants.

He was looking her over as well. "Nice dress."

            "Thanks. You clean up nicely, I suppose."

            "Well, let's go."


	2. China Girl

I know it's been a while! I'm sorry! I've been trying to work up the motivation to write, and finally over time I managed to come up with this much. Don't worry, though, hopefully the next part will be up soon. My apologies for it being so short!

I would also like to thank my friends Mike, Char350, Cass, Psyco Haro, and anyone else for helping my ignorant self out with some of the terms, foods, names, and essentially the whole Chinese culture. XD

- SporkGoddess

Doshite Ja Nai

**_Chapter 2: China Girl_**

            Their destination was not a government building, but an apartment building located across the street from a park, which was the only sight of green in the city other than a few trees scattered on the sidewalk. The building itself was one of the nicer ones, with carpeted stairs that they walked up until they reached the top story.

            Jarek was the one who knocked on the door, and the sound of scuffling could be heard until finally the door was opened. Their gaze met a little girl with soft black braids circled above her shoulders, and dark eyes that looked up at them shyly.

            "Are you the…"

            She was interrupted when another girl came to the door, this one a little taller and obviously significantly older.

            "Dylan! Mu qin told you that I should answer the door!"

            "Did not!"

            "I won't even have this argument!" The older girl stalked away. They could hear her yell, "Mu qin, they're here!"

            "Are they? Goodness, I haven't finished making lunch yet!" The voice that answered didn't sound much older than that of her daughters'.

            The elder girl had reappeared. "Be thankful for that," she whispered. "Fu qin's the real cook in the family, and it shows."

            "I heard that!" Azami looked over and saw a pretty woman standing behind them. She was wearing an apron over her modest pink dress; which was uncharacteristically motherly and gave her the look of a young girl trying to help her mother bake brownies. It didn't help that she was still very short, either. In some cases, though, looking young is good: her figure betrayed the fact that she had borne two children, her emerald-colored hair still retained its youthful sheen, and her eyes still sparkled as though they belonged to a teenager.

            The woman wiped her hands on her apron before extending one to Jarek. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Ce…" She stopped dead upon seeing his face.

            "I know, Aunt Cecil." He grinned.

            Cecil turned a bit pink. "Now now, Jarek, you're not a little boy anymore. And who's your partner?" She asked, turning to Azami.

            "Don't you recogn….Ow!" Jarek stopped as Azami kicked him.

            "I'm Midori." She said quickly, wishing that she had taken the initiative to ate least dye her hair.

            Cecil still regarded her suspiciously, but shook her hand without questioning anything else. "I'm sorry that the place being such a mess." She said apologetically, "We're staying here temporarily. At least, we were supposed to be. We've been here for almost a year now."

            "Fa qin missed us too much." The oldest of her two daughters announced, proudly.

            "Oh, I'm sorry!" Cecil said. "These are my two daughters, Chia-Ling and Dylan."

            "I'm the oldest." Chia-Ling said smugly, which caused her little sister to roll her eyes.

            "But I'm the cutest." She told Jarek, who smiled.

            "You're both going to grow up to be quite the lookers, ladies." He ruffled Dylan's hair, and she giggled.

             "You're Chinese and Danish?" Azami asked.

            "Yes. Their father named Chia-Ling, and I named Dylan." Azami studied the two. Both were definitely Asian with their slender builds, porcelain skin and angelic faces (even Dylan's hair, green like her mother's, was dark enough that it looked black); but both had blue eyes. Grudgingly, Azami had to admit that Jarek was right—the two would definitely be gorgeous when they grew up.

            "Cute kids." She said airily, then turned to their mother. "We were told to meet with the representative of Neo China. Where is he?"

            "My husband is away right now," Cecil said, "But I know what to do for you. Are you hungry? I've almost finished cooking lunch."

            Jarek nodded. "Who could resist Chinese food?"

            Azami was about to protest, but then her stomach grumbled. She blushed. "I suppose we have time."

            "Wonderful. Chia-Ling, would you set the table please?" The girl, beaming at the responsibility bestowed unto her, jumped up and walked the short distance into the divided kitchen area.

            "Ma ma, is there anything that I can do?" Dylan asked timidly.

            Cecil looked thoughtful. "Well, if you want to help you can show our guests around while I finish cooking lunch."

            "Okay!" Dylan, showing the same enthusiasm that her sister had, grabbed both Azami and Jarek's hand and pulled them along the hallway.

            "Oh my," Cecil laughed, as she adjusted her apron and went over to the stove.

            A few messy rooms and an even more cluttered bathroom later, they all sat down to lunch. Azami had an acquired taste for Chinese food; it had taken her quite some time to like it.

            "I sort of picked up Chinese cooking from my husband's cuisine, and living there for so long." Cecil laughed as she dished out steamed rice, _bok choi _(which, Azami recognized as a Chinese cabbage), and cooked meats. "It's not as good as my husband's cooking, but hopefully it'll do."

            "It smells great." Jarek said.

            "Oh good, you know how to use chopsticks." Cecil smiled.

            "Yeah, you kind of have to when you live in Neo Japan. And Az… Midori here has used them her entire life."

            Azami, who had been busy shoveling food into her mouth, looked up when her name was mentioned. "I'd love to hear you continue this drivel, but Cecil still hasn't told us anything."

            "Oh! My apologies." Cecil blushed. "The representatives on the council love the higher life. Very cultured. They're always flying about to other colonies to see shows, or have romantic dinners in Neo France."

            Azami rolled her eyes. "Typical politicians."

            "Precisely. That's partly why I'm so supportive of reinstating the rights of Neo Japan; it's disgusting the way that they just spend their money like that. Anyway," Cecil said, "my husband and I know that you want to meet Asano, so we've taken the liberty of arranging everything."

            "Oh?" Jarek asked in between mouthfuls.

            "Yes. My husband arranged to attend the symphony in London with him; but he also told him that his friend's son was in town and asked if he and his girlfriend could attend as well. Of course Asano said yes… so it's all figured out."

            "Wonderful." The Russian beamed. _The symphony? _Azami thought with displeasure.

            Her disdain must have shown, because Cecil took the moment to say to her: "You'd better get used to this if you plan on becoming close to Asano. He goes to a different thing at least once a week."

            "Great," Azami muttered.

            "Well, you two had best get back to your hotel and change into the appropriate clothes. Jarek, you should wear a tux. Azami, I'm sure that you have a nice evening gown."

            Jarek nodded, pulling Azami away before she could utter obscenities in front of the children. "Thank you for your help."

            "It's no problem. After all, you're practically family." Cecil smiled and waved as the two left.

            She waited a few moments after the door had closed. "You really are like your father, Azami." She mused. "You might have gotten away with it if you'd inherited some of your mother's craftiness." She looked over at her eldest daughter. "Chia-Ling, honey, can you get the phone for Ma Ma?" Chia-Ling nodded and hurried off. The Danish woman shuffled through her drawer, tossing aside her daughters' school directories and the Neo Hong Kong phonebook. Finally, she surfaced with a pleasant-looking, flowered address book.

            "Let's see," she mumbled as she flipped through it; then, propping it open as soon as she'd found a specific page, dialed the listed number onto the phone.

Mu qin is the Mandarin formal term for "mother." Ma Ma would be the informal. Cecil and her family use Mandarin because, while they are in Neo Hong Kong, they are at home and therefore use their native language (by now, it would be native to Cecil anyway). Either way, though, it is not uncommon to hear Mandarin spoken in Hong Kong.


	3. Blue Eyes

  
I got inspired to write this while I was at the dentist... weird, huh? Anyway, it's rather short but I hope that you enjoy it. Things are starting to shape up and I have some idea for a plot, as opposed to just winging it now. :D I can't promise when the next chapter will be, but I'd like to say soon. Then again, who knows. This time, I was also not lazy enough to actually fix the html to my liking! Hurray!   
  
A thank you to tiakall and anyone else who helped me with the Japanese! Yes, I had to ask for help on those few words. I'm just _that_ sad.   
- SporkGoddess   


Doshite Ja Nai  
  
**Chapter 3: Blue Eyes **

  
Azami sighed as she stared at her closet. "I don't have a fashionable bone in my body," She muttered as she reached out and stroked the silky material of a particularly fancy evening gown. "How am I supposed to know which of these... _ things_... to wear?"   
"You're a girl. It should come naturally."   
She turned and glared at Jarek, who was smirking at her confusion.   
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be getting ready." She hissed.   
"Aren't you observant?" He made a grand gesture towards his suit. "It's a known fact that men get ready faster than women."   
"You're just asking for an ass-kicking." Azami told him.   
"You're not proving me wrong even if you did that. Your hair isn't even done yet. And jeez, aren't you going to wear makeup?"   
"Are you saying that I need it?" She growled.   
He made a mewing sound. "Down, girl."   
She rolled her eyes   
"Anyway, come on. We can't be late."   


  
*************************************************   


  
Azami had at least been hoping for nice scenery on the shuttle to Neo London, but that was not to be the case. Because the next thing she knew after she stepped on board Sai Sici's private shuttle, Jarek was leaning over her, shaking her shoulders.   
"Az, I mean, Emiko! Wake up!"   
"Wha...?" She asked, groggily sitting up.   
"We're here, and it's almost time to go. The flight took long enough, we have to hurry!"   
She groaned as she stood up, wincing as the blood rushed to her head. "Since when are you so dedicated?"   
"It won't make a good impression if we're late... then again, it won't make a good impression if you fall asleep during the concert either."   
"I get your point. Let's just go already." She said pointedly, and began to walk away.   
"Hey, wait up!" He called, picking up the glitzy purse that she had left behind, obviously not used to having to carry one.   
  
  
"I hate this colony," Azami grumbled. "It's so dismal."   
"Says a girl from Neo Japan," Jarek smirked, looking appreciatively at the giant buildings the car they were in was passing.   
"I'm actually from Neo Hong Kong, genius. But even if I wasn't.. Neo Russia's no sunny beach," She snarled. "So how are we supposed to find Sai Sici, anyway?"   
Jarek shrugged. "I'm assuming we'll just meet him outside. Even if we can't find him, it's not like a council member's going to abduct you or anything. They can't risk it."   
She snorted. "I know the council, and they'll do anything so long as they can get away with it."   
He sighed, wondering if she knew how many people on the council she'd already met, a long time ago. And he also knew that her parents would not approve of her disowning them as she had.   
"If you have a problem with your parents, Azami, that's not my business. But don't you insult the people you once referred to as aunts and uncles. Because even if you don't anymore, I still do."   
Her eyes narrowed. "Oh yes, they should be canonized. They're cowards! All of them! Too preoccupied with their own damn country to worry about Neo Japan. They're just blaming us so that no one will blame them!"   
"It's not that simple, Azami."   
"That's what everyone says when the solution's so easy that everyone overlooks it." She said coldly.   
"Er, excuse me sir and ma'am," the driver up front said, "but we've arrived at the concert hall."   
Suddenly realizing that they'd practically given away their identity in front of some Neo England driver Sai Sici had hired for a night, a man whose loyalty was ambiguous at best, Azami turned bright red. She muttered a thank you, trying her best to sound polite, and as soon as she and Jarek were out of the car kicked him in the shins.   
"What if he heard us? What if he's going to go report us at this minute!?" She whispered so harshly that she may as well have been shouting. "Next time when I start to give away our secrets, don't let me!"   
Jarek rolled his eyes. "I don't think we have much to worry about. Plenty of people are opinionated on the subject of Neo Japan, and not just our people. I'm sure he hears that stuff a lot."   
"You'd better be right," She said stiffly.   
Jarek was about to tell her that yes, he was right, but as soon as they'd entered the lobby they were accosted by a short Chinese man.  
  
"Vladimir... how wonderful to see you!" He said loudly. Azami vaguely recognized this man, but even if she hadn't it was easy to guess that he was Neo China's Representative, Sai Sici. She was a little taken aback at how they didn't have time to discuss things seriously; they had to jump right into the act.   
Fortunately, Jarek seemed to know perfectly well what he was doing. He said in a solemn tone that Azami hadn't know he possessed: "Thank you for getting the tickets for myself and Emiko, sir."   
"Is this the new girlfriend your father told me about?"   
He nodded, his expression the same. "This is Emiko Fukao. Although I guess to you Asians it would be Fukao Emiko, hmm?" The last question wasn't in good humor as Azami would have guessed Jarek to use; instead, he said it almost condescendingly.   
Sai smiled at her, and Azami with a start remembered that she wasn't just watching the show-she was a part of it.   
Hastily she curtsied, almost falling over (damn high heels, she thought.)   
"Hello sir," she said, trying to sound exceptionally sweet. Sai seemed unsure of what to say to her next; she felt uncomfortable under his gaze. Did he recognize her?  
  
Fortunately, that was the moment that Asano arrived. Azami would have known him anywhere; from his picture on the screen of the dinky TV in the DJN headquarters to the coffee-stained newspaper articles she'd had to borrow from Kuroi since she was too poor to afford a newspaper subscription. She, like every other member of DJN, had followed his political career from day one, in hopes that he would be the saviour Neo Japan so desperately needed.   
But even so, in person he looked different. Tall for a Japanese man, although small compared to Jarek, well-dressed and clean-shaven. He looked every inch a politician, she thought wryly, although she could tell that he lacked the security and wisdom that only came with age and experience.   
Sai Sici smiled warmly. "Asano? To what do I owe the pleasure of your coming over to speak to me?"   
He sighed heavly, running a hand through his hand. "The fact that you're the only one here who's not sucking up to me, looking down on me, or trying to manipulate me? Have you ever known of the Hatanaka. Par..." He stopped short when he saw Jarek and Azami. "Oh, forgive my rudeness! Is this the family friend that you mentioned to me?"   
Sai nodded. "May I introduce Vladimir Morozov and his date."   
"Hello there," Jarek nodded.   
Azami had an idea. "_Ohayou gozaimasu_," she said sweetly.   
Her attempt to catch Asano's interest worked; after nodding politely in return to Jarek, he immediately turned to her.   
"You are Japanese?"   
"_Hai_. Ethnically only, however. I was born in Neo Japan, but I was raised in Neo Hong Kong."   
He smiled sadly. "I do not blame your parents for leaving. The colony is in a sorry state."   
She sighed. "Indeed."   
"Oh, I am making us all down, am I not? I do not like to see pretty girls cry. My apologizies, Fukao-_san_, and to your date as well for having such an uncouth interruption. Shall we proceed inside now?"  
  
Azami nodded. Jarek, giving her a warning glance which said that she had to do this for the sake of their mission, took her arm and led her inside. She resisted glancing back, but Jarek's willpower was not as strong.   
"Asano's saying something to Sai," he muttered.   
"I hope that's a good sign." She whispered back.   
  
It was not until they were seated that Sai was able to relay the message to Jarek, who leaned over to Azami and whispered:  
  
"He said, 'I hope this is not overstepping my boundary, but I must say that I have never expected any Japanese woman to have such beautiful blue eyes.'"   
  
  
  



	4. You're Making a Scene

  
  
Been a long time, sorry guys, but today I got inspired to work on it and more will be coming after this.  If you're really really observant you might notice some inconsistencies between the first chapter and this one, but I went back and fixed them… so it should all be good, provided y'all have bad memories!   If you're confused, well, you should be.  If you're not, then good for you! 

Hopefully more will be coming soon!  
  
- SporkGoddess   
  


Doshite Ja Nai  
  
**Chapter 4: You're Making a Scene**

            Azami had never been very appreciative of music, so most of the concert was spent thinking.  Asano's words kept running through her head, well, the words that he'd supposedly said anyway.  She tried to imagine his own voice saying that, but it wasn't quite working. 

            Was it her, or did he keep glancing her way?  Why was she noticing this? 

            _It's nothing_, she thought to herself, _I'm just not used to attention from a guy. Much less a prominent politician._

At least, she hoped that was it.  Otherwise this could get messy…

            Jarek was waiting for her after the concert, and it was apparent that he hadn't been paying much attention either.

            "He likes you, alright.  Couldn't keep his eyes off of you.  So we have  to play this to our advantange."

            "Howso?"  She whispered, rather surprised at how on-the-ball he was.

            Jarek shrugged.  "I'm thinking Vladimir will just have to display his charm.  Or lack thereof.  I'm doing a nice job forming his character, aren't I?"  He grinned.

            She rolled her eyes.  "You should just give up and join a theatre.  You're enjoying this too much."

            But she had to admit it was a good idea, and so when "Vladimir" and "Emiko" returned she prepared herself.  They had to make a scene, Jarek had told her, in case Asano wasn't right there.  So the two stood in the lobby, talking.

            "Okay, just act like we're talking in sweet low lovers' tones," Jarek muttered, his tone sultry.  She blinked.

            "What the hell are you on?"

            He shook his head.  "You're a terrible actress.  Act like I'm flattering you.  Flirt with me.  Touch my arm, and stuff.  Giggle."

            "You've got to be kidding… "

            "Oh, Emiko, your eyes are like the stars…" He said loudly, then growled, "Now giggle!"

            She narrowed her eyes, but managed to laugh stupidly, figuring that was all that a giggle was.

            "Now… Azami…  you're doing such a good job… man, you're hot…" He whispered, "Wanna join me tonight… in the jacuzzi… or even better, the bedroom?"

            "WHAT? "  She screamed.

            "Come on baby… that's what this is all about, isn't it?"

            "It certainly is not!"  She shrieked. 

            "Oh, quit denying it… you know you want me… "

            "Yeah, more like wanna kick your ass!  I'm NOT that kind of girl, and even if I was, it would most definitely not be with _you_!"

            "You're making a scene!  Stop being such a priss!"

            "EXCUSE me?"

            "Asano's coming over," Jarek whispered, "nice job."  Azami blinked, realizing that it _had _ just been an act.  Damn Jarek, he didn't trust her!  Did everyone in DJN think she was incompetant?

            Sure enough, the tall Japanese man walked over.

            "Excuse me, but is there a problem here?"  He asked, sounding like he had just stepped out of a movie.

            "None of your business," Jarek snarled.  "But, okay, you want me to leave her alone?  Fine, I'll leave her alone!"  He shot Asano one last glare and stormed off.

            To her surprise, Azami found herself enjoying this.  Now it was _her_ time to shine, to prove that she could pull this off.  She fell to her knees and stared at the ground.

            "Vladimir…" She said softly, longingly, almost sounding like she was going to cry.

            Asano knelt down next to her.  "You should be glad he's gone, you know.  You deserve better."

            "I… I thought he liked me…" Azami sniffled.  "Back home, no one really likes me… I'm all alone… I  thought that once, maybe just once, someone could actually fall for me…"

            Asano smiled gently.  "You're a sweet and pretty girl.  It's not as hard as you think."  He reached over, and, taking her hand, gently pulled her up to her feet.  "Why don't you come with me for a while?"

            "But… I…"  Azami feigned wiping her eyes.  "… I'll miss the plane."

            "I'll get you back to Neo Hong Kong, I promise. "

            She nodded, and he pulled off his suit jacket and set it on her shoulders. 

"Come on, let's go." 

Her eyes widened, and this time it wasn't acting.  Was this guy for real?

Back at their hotel room all the way in Neo Hong Kong, Jarek was lounging on the bed, reading a novel.  It was all the way from the 20th century, something that his older brother had once recommended to him but he'd never had the chance to read.  It was about Russia as it used to be, Mirko had said, handing him a battered paperback. In actuality it took place in America, but Jarek knew that the form of government it praised had once existed in Russia.  Communism, it was called.

Jarek didn't share his brother's political views, not by a long shot, but he was interested in seeing from where they originated.  Mirko had joined the DJN because of said beliefs, but he was radical for even them.  That was one problem Jarek had with the group: a lot of them wanted not the Gundam fight, but a totally different form of government.

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his reverie by the ringing of the videophone.  He hurriedly stood up and ran over, switching it on.  He smiled when he saw who was on the other end of the line.

"Akai!  It's been a while!" 

The pretty blonde engineer on the other end giggled.  "You're calling me Akai now?  You've been hanging around Midori too long."

"We don't know if this line is safe.  We ought to be careful"

Akai rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, like they have nothing better to do than monitor the hotel phone line.  They're all too busy attending the symphony.  With you."  She laughed.

"It's been too long, Akai, I missed your laugh."  He told her.  "Midori's so damn angry at the world."

Akai shook her head.  Being the only other same-aged female in the DJN, she was by default Azami's best friend, but she certainly knew how frustrating the Asian woman could get.

"Anyway, I heard you tried to get.. .er… Tori, is it, to join us again."

She sighed.  "Midori did a lot of damage.  But yes, I convinced him."

            "I'm not surprised."  He grinned at her.  "So, why are you calling?  Just to chat?"

            "Is it ever 'just to chat'?"  Her tone sounded serious.  "I'm calling about….  We lost another member to them."

            "Oh no… who?"  Jarek asked.

            "Aoi," she said, referring to the codename of a young man who had served as a member of intelligence.  "I'm not sure if you know him, but he's Japanese."

            "Of course, they won't let in foreigners."  Like Jarek, Akai sympathized with Neo Japan but was not a native herself. 

            "Which is why I'm calling.  We're all very worried about the group's motives.  And we don't have many Japanese members left; they're all turning towards this new group."

            "So what do you want me to do about it?"

            "Give me a moment.  Well, they already have the support of 75% of the colony.  We're the unpopular ones now."

            "So why not merge with them?"

            She sighed.  "We have.  As of now, we have joined forces."

            "I don't trust them."

            "Me neither.  No one knows their exact ideals, except for those who are on the very inside.  Which is why, we need to try to rise to that position and find out.  I think Midori's the best candidate, as she's Japanese."

            "She'd give away her real motives within hours," Jarek sighed.  "She's horrible at undercover.  And what about Asano?"

            "What she's already done with Asano is fine, for now.  As long as he liked her."

            "He did.  Er, does."

            "Excellent."  Akai smiled.  "The point is, we can't rise very high since we're foreigners.  They don't trust us.  So it's up to Midori."

            "I see."

            "Look, have some faith in her.  Although I know she doesn't give us much reason to."

            "If you knew her father, you'd understand."  Jarek said wryly.

            "I'm not asking for her geneaology," Akai replied.  "But this is important.  If she screws this up, we are all...Do you have your laptop?"

            "Yeah, I haven't turned it on yet though."

            "Go do that!  I'm sending you an email, print it out for Midori to read it, then delete it.  And make sure she destroys the paper as soon as she's done."

            "Yeah, yeah.  We all know you're older than we are, you don't have to keep acting like our mother."

            She rolled her eyes.  "Well, someone has to."


	5. Imouto

  
  
I know, it's fast! I'm inspired to write, so who knows when the next one will be… hopefully soon! I'd like to thank anyone who helped with the Chinese and Japanese aspects of this, particularly "Jimu," Kevin, and Phil. And I hope you guys all like the new characters… you'll meet a lot more soon! Whee, I love OCs XD And kudos to those of you who guessed right about Azami's parentage…as if it weren't obvious!   
  
- SporkGoddess   
  


Doshite Ja Nai  
  
**Chapter 5: Imouto **

It was a typical summer Sunday at the Kasshu household. Rain Kasshu was making lunch. Her husband Domon was outside with their son, teaching him martial arts. Any other woman would have winced at the constant sound of someone smacking against the wall from the other side, but Rain was far too used to it. Domon insisted on little Daren getting up at nearly sunrise every morning of the weekend and summer, since Rain refused to let him train during the week because of school. In reality, she hated having to get up so early with them to cook them breakfast, as she had to do every weekend. She smothered a yawn, glad that as tomorrow was a Monday and she could go back to work, which only required her to get up at 6 AM. 

Suddenly, Daren opened the door and came inside. He looked exhausted. "I'm just in here to use the bathroom. Dad's not too happy about it. He said it's a weakness to succumb to your body so easily. But I can't help it... oh no,"

"I'm sorry sweetie, Sanae's in the shower."

Daren's face fell. "Are you kidding me?"

"She'll be out soon," Rain tried to tell him. But Daren wasn't listening. He was too busy kicking the door, out of which was emanating loud singing.

"Sanae! Get your butt out of there!" The boy yelled.

His response was more singing.

"SANAE!"

"_Kiss me gooooodbye, I'm defyyyyying gravity!"_

"MOOOOM!"

Rain rolled her eyes, wiped her hands on her apron, and knocked on the door. "Sanae, can you let your brother in to use the bathroom?"

"I'm almost done, I promise!"

Not too long after, though it seemed like hours to Daren, the door opened and with a cloud of mist his older sister appeared. Daren ran into the bathroom, and Rain shook her head.

"Sanae, I wish you'd be a little nicer."

"Is it my fault he's stupid enough to train for seven hours straight?" Unlike her siblings, Sanae was the only one to have successfully resisted her father's rigorous program. She learned only what she wanted to; after basic self-defense she had refused to learn anymore and eventually he'd given up on her.

"Don't insult your brother like that. Some of us are better at different things, that's all." Rain never quite knew after whom her youngest daughter took. Like her mother, she loved reading and did very well in school. She planned on following in Rain's footsteps and becoming a doctor. But she was stubborn and outspoken, like her father.

Sanae was about to respond, when the phone rang. She answered it.

"Jun's Rice Balls. If they're circular and edible, we've got 'em!"

"Sanae!" Rain rushed over and grabbed the phone. "I'm terribly sorry about that... "

"Rain? Do you know Mandarin? I don't know if you want people to hear what I'm about to say."

"Cecil!" Rain gasped, lapsing into Mandarin. She knew the language adequately, from her days in the Gundam Fight.

Meanwhile, Sanae stared at her mother who was speaking in a dialect she didn't even know her mother knew. Of course, it made sense, now that she thought about it. Her parents had been in the Gundam Fight, she knew, though they hated talking about it. Once a year, though, they met with others who had been in the tournament with them. It hadn't happened yet this year, though. Sanae wondered why.

The timer went off, making her jump but Rain was too engrossed in her conversation to notice, so Sanae rushed over to turn off the stove. After doing so, she sneaked a peek at her mother, and saw that she looked as if someone had told her a colony was falling. She hoped that the news wasn't bad. Finally Rain hung up the phone, and barely after she'd done so Domon and Daren stepped inside.

"Is lunch done yet?" Sanae's father asked.

"Lunch... oh! I forgot to turn the stove off!" Rain looked alarmed, but relief flickered over her features when she saw that Sanae by the stove. "Oh, thank you, Sanae."

"What was that abou..." Sanae began to ask, but Daren cut her off.

"Mom! Dad taught me such neat stuff!" Domon had barely broken a sweat, but Daren was soaked. Rain laughed.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up before you sit down, you two?"

Sanae made a face at her brother. "Yeah, you're gross." Her mother gave her a warning look.

Daren and his father complied and after making sure they were out of earshot, Rain turned to Sanae.

"Do you remember your sister?"

Azami and Sanae were only a little over a year apart, but as different as night and day. And it wasn't just Sanae that Azami was different from, it was the entire family. Well, actually, she was nearly a carbon copy of their father, but they had completely different ideals and fought almost every other minute.

For reasons that Sanae could not entirely understand, her sister loved the Japanese culture. She insisted on speaking Japanese at home. She hated whenever Sanae, who loved Chinese fabrics, bought a Chinese jacket or a _cheongsam_. Unfortunately, their father hated Neo Japan. Rain tried her best to raise her children with an awareness of their culture. They owned kimonos, knew the language, and customs. They celebrated White Day and Golden Week. Azami's love of a nation that her father hated caused Azami to leave home when she was sixteen years old, Sanae fifteen, and and Daren nine. It wasn't a secret to anyone in the family, but it was rarely discussed. Domon was still mad at her, and had pretty much disowned her. So it was like Azami had never existed.

But Sanae remembered her. In her haste to leave Azami had forgotten a lacquered Japanese comb that her mother had given her at a young age and she had worn on special occasions. Sanae had kept the comb, but didn't wear it herself. There were many Japanese superstitions involving combs. Accidentally breaking a comb or a tooth was considered bad luck and if given as a gift hardship might afflict the recipient. To pick up someone else's comb, meant that you could be visited by their suffering.

Not that Sanae believed in that silly superstition, mind you. She only kept it hidden because her sister made her so mad. Stupid girl, she thought, even Daren had more brains than Azami. Daren didn't remember his oldest sister, and often when out of earshot of Domon would ask Sanae about her. He seemed to view her as a sort of idol, since Azami had been an excellent martial artist. Sanae hoped that he wouldn't follow in Azami's footsteps. Was she the only kid in the family with some common sense? She hadn't cried when her sister left. She had thought that it was inevitable, and was glad that Azami was imposing her ideals on someone other than her family.

But now, they had found Azami through an old friend of her parents. She was in Neo Hong Kong, and a member of Doshite Ja Nai. Sanae didn't know much about the organization, other than the meaning of their name, but her mother explained that their goal was to bring back the Gundam Fight and get Neo Japan's rights back. It sounded perfect for Azami. She wasn't terribly surprised. But she was surprised by what her mother told her.

"Sanae," Rain said, "I want you to go see her."

"What?"

"You were the closest to her."

"No one was close to her!"

"Please, Sanae. Just try. It will be easy for you to get to the colony, in fact, you can stay with Sai Sici's family. Do you remember him? He's known you ever since you were a little girl. It's summer, so you won't miss school."

"He's one of the council members, isn't he..."

"He's an old friend of ours," her mother said. "But you can't tell your father or your brother where you're really going. Okay?"

"Why so secretive?"

Rain looked down at the ground. "Your father hasn't forgiven her yet. And your brother worships her. He might try to go with. I can trust that you won't get suckered in by the DJN."

"What makes you think she'll come back?"

"She won't, I'm sure. But I want to know how she's doing. Surely she won't reject a visit from her little sister."

_Sure she will_, Sanae thought grudgingly. But she knew that this was important to her mother.

"Fine."

Rain smiled. "I'll get you a ticket to the colony. If your sister leaves the colony, or if you as soon as school resumes, come home."

"Okay. Do I need an alias?" She said this jokingly, but in reality she was thinking "_What the hell did I just agree to?"_

__

_ cheongsam (aka qi pao) is a beautiful 20th century Chinese dress, the kind with slits up the sides and the Mandarin-style collar_


	6. Hatanaka

  
  
Well, I got inspired and wrote the next chapter already!  I'm going to write more after I post this, so you'll see the next chapter soon I hope.  I love when I get all into the writing mood. :D  Thanks to my friends James and Grant for the help with this chapter.  
  
- SporkGoddess   
  


Doshite Ja Nai  
  
**Chapter 6: Hatanaka **

            After the events of FC 60 the other Neo-nations became highly suspicious of Neo Hong Kong, feeling they shouldn't be allowed to remain 'hidden' on Earth, plotting God knows what. To ease the tension, the new delegate, Cheung Kuan-Yin, in a rush of diplomatic genius, declared they would create their own colony and join the other countries in space. Due how late their colony was made, Neo-Hong Kong boasted the greatest amount of travel between their colony and their Earth-based country. 

            Very few colonies were actually in terrible states, but as the colony of Neo Hong Kong was brand new, it was exceptionally gorgeous.  Most of the council members had their families situated there, and one could tell just from the outside view of the building whenever he or she had stumbled upon a delegate's house.   As one had to be rich in order to live in a colony, none of the houses were shabby. 

            None of this, however, impressed Azami as she rode in a limo with Asano, staring out the window.  She had been to Neo Japan's colony once, which was destitute and abandoned due to people no longer being able to afford living there, and the sight of Neo Hong Kong's prosperity made her quite sick. 

            Asano looked at her.  "Are you alright?"

            "I..."  She sighed.  "I was just thinking of home.  Not Neo Hong Kong, Neo Japan."  It wasn't a lie.

            "Oh."  He looked out the window.  "I know what you mean.  Especially compared to this colony, our home looks especially impoverished."

            She sighed. "You're the delegate.  Can't you do something?"

            "What could I do?  I think a big enough step has been taken, a Neo Japanese native is finally Neo Japan's delegate.  Miss Fukao, you're too sweet and naive for politics.  These things take time."

            "Time, yes, but during that time people are starving while you council members fly across the galaxy just to attend a symphony."  She was getting angry.

            "I don't like it, Miss Fukao," he said quietly.  "What makes you think I do?  But it's all about appearance.  I need to be active in the social scene to gain pull in the council.  Schmoozing, it's called."

            "Funny,"Azami said.  "I'd call it pandering."

            "Miss Fukao..."

            "Or lying,"

            "Please..."

            "How about selling out?"

            "Enough!"  Asano yelled, then coughed.  "These things cross my mind everyday. But there's nothing that I can do right now.  Diplomacy involves a lot of red tape.  And it's not on our side.  You have to give it time, because if I do something hasty I could lose my position and we'd be back to being governed by another nation.  People hate us, Miss Fukao."

            Her expression lightened.  "Please, call me Emiko."

            "Emiko."  He smiled softly.  "No one's ever talked to me like that before."

            "It shows."  She said dryly.

            The man laughed.  "You're quite an interesting woman.  It's really late, why don't you stay in the guest room at my mansion tonight?  I can take you back to your hotel tomorrow."

            "Sure."  She hoped that she wasn't blushing.

            "And after... can we stay in touch?"      

She froze, feeling odd, as if she'd just taken cold medicine that was causing her to feel light-headed.  But then she smiled back at him.

            "I'd like that."

            Try as he might, Jarek couldn't read any more of that wretched book.  When he woke up in the morning to find that Azami had not yet returned, he watched TV, then hooked up his laptop to find that email Akai had told him about.  Sure enough, she was to report back to headquarters.

            When Azami returned, looking like a college student who had stayed out a little too late and drank a little to much, he told her about the new mission.  As he would have guessed, her reaction was indignant.

            "What!?  I spent all this stupid time getting here and got cozy with Asano, and now they have something ELSE for me to do!?"

            "We can't help it," Jarek had told her, "we're losing members.  And this is more important right now.  Hatanaka could be dangerous."

            So they arranged everything.  Azami was to have lunch with Asano, telling him that she was going to move back to Neo Japan, because she didn't feel right staying there, then report back to DJN headquarter, then join Hatanaka and report back to DJN every so often with her findings.  No one else was to know about it, not even the delegates in correspondence with the DJN.  It would be a quiet exit, and Jarek was to remain in Neo Hong Kong.  He would be joined by Akai, and they would stay in contact and do whatever mission they had to involving the delegates.  He grinned at that thought; finally, a woman who wouldn't make him sleep on the floor.

            So Azami left without much of a goodbye, and the next day Akai arrived.

            "It's a good thing I like travelling," she said after she'd hugged him in greeting, "or else I would be really mad.  They don't have much use for us, since we're not Japanese."

            "Did it ever occur to you that Midori might get suckered in by Hatanaka as well?  She's radical enough for them."  Jarek said thoughtfully.

            "Of course it has," Akai responded.  "But we don't have much choice.  Neo Japan supports Hatanaka now.  We're the only ones left, and Midori's the only Neo Japanese person left." 

            Azami had to admit that it felt good to be back in Neo Japan.  She no longer felt phony, or elite, and it reminded her of whom she was fighting for.  These were her people, and this was her home.

            Like the DJN, Hatanaka was located in a rundown building, in a terrible part of the city.  The people inside, though clean, wore shabby clothes and went barefoot.  Azami at once felt self-conscious of her outfit, which by these standards was nice.

            "I'm from Doshite Ja Nai," she stammered, "and I would like to join Hatanaka."

            The girl at the desk lit up.  "We got another one?"  She asked, grinning toothily.  Her face was dirty, her hair hidden beneath a bandanna, and her smile uneven, but she looked like she had a lot of spirit.  "I'll notify the boss; DJN folks are treated pretty nice arond here."  She went to the back, where a phone looking like it had been stolen out of a phone booth stood, and picked it up.

            Not too much later, a man arrived.  He was unshaven and his hair messy, but he was young.  He wore a frayed business jacket over his patched pants and what looked like a department store t-shirt. 

            "A DJN member, eh?  You do realize that you can't be a member of DJN and Hatanaka, right?"

            She nodded.

            "Good.  Oh, sorry!  I'm Ryo.  See, we don't use aliases like the DJN.  We're honest.  If we get in trouble for it, well, it was for a good cause."

            Azami smiled.  "They call me…" She fumbled around for a good name, "well, they call me Midori."  She said finally.

            "Not going to give us your real name?"

            "I'm… sorry."

            He shrugged.  "Don't be.  Anyway, I'll take you to my office." She followed him to a room that was like a poorer version of Kuroi's office back at the DJN.

            "You want to be a member? We don't tell everything to people who aren't members.  You never know who could squeal.  If you need basic info, well, we're trying to get Neo Japan back on its feet. Simple as that."

            She nodded.

            "I'll write down your name.  We're a pretty intimate group; don't use cards or nametags or nothing, we know everyone by heart."

            Azami smiled at that thought.  Hatanaka seemed like a nice bunch.

            In fact, the more Azami heard, the more she liked the group.  They were genuine, unlike DJN which collaborated with the enemy and compromised a lot of things.  They were all Neo-Japanese, and knew firsthand the city's suffering. So, she did the logical thing.  She went back to the DJN headquarters, and resigned.


	7. A French Butterfly

Yes, I'm alive, and yes, this story is, too. There will be additional notes at the bottom. I have some things to say, but I don't want to spoil anything.

- SporkGoddess

Doshite Ja Nai 

**Chapter**** 7: A French Butterfly**

"Well, we knew it was going to happen." Jarek pointed out after he heard the news of Azami's resignation from the DJN.

"But not this soon," Akai sighed from where she was sitting, trying to peel the shell off of a peanut. "Leave it to Midori to jump right in without knowing anything first." She threw the shell onto the floor, sighing. "And I'm bored. Has the DJN disbanded yet?"

"It's down to about three or four members." Jarek said miserably. "And we're all foreigners. None of us can infiltrate Hatanaka."

Suddenly, the videophone rang. Akai answered it, seeing the hotel receptionist.

"There is a young lady down at the front desk that wants to see you. A Miss Kasshu."

"Hm?" Akai asked suspiciously, but Jarek leapt up.

"We'll be right down," he told the receptionist, and hung up. He grabbed Akai's hand. "Let's go."

"You know her? An ex-girlfriend?" Akai asked wryly.

"Stop being a smartass, this is important." He lead the confused girl out of the room and downstairs.

Sanae sat on the couch, marveling silently at the luxurious hotel surrounding her. Her parents said that they had seen enough hotels to last them a lifetime during the last Gundam Fight, so they didn't go to them often. Sanae didn't understand the repulsion, though—especially this one. It was beautiful.

She stood up as she saw two people come near her, but her face fell as soon as she saw that none of them was her sister.

"That's odd, Mrs. Sai said that Azami was here," she muttered. Aloud, she said, "Um, sorry, I must have gotten the wrong room number."

"No! You're looking for Azami, aren't you?" The man said. Sanae stared at him.

"J… Shoot, what's your name again… Jared?"

"Jarek. Jarek Gulskii."

She smiled. "It's nice to see you. I didn't know you were in contact with Azami. Of course, I had heard that you were a member of some organization trying to get your broth…"

"Enough of that," Jarek said, eyeing the confused-looking blonde next to him. "This is Aka…"

"It's silly to use aliases here," the girl said quietly. "I'm Nixie. But who are you?"

"Let's go up to the room. You don't mind, do you?" He asked Sanae, who shook her head.

Once in the room, Jarek explained to Sanae that Azami had left for Neo Japan. Nixie frowned.

"I'm really sorry, but who are you?" She asked Sanae.

"I'm Sanae Kasshu," she replied.

"Midori, whose real name is Azami… her little sister." Jarek explained.

Nixie's eyes widened. "She has a family! Oh, I'd love to meet the people responsible for bringing her into the world."

"So, where'd my sister go?" Sanae asked, annoyed that she had come all that way for nothing.

"She quit the DJN and is a member of another Neo-Japanese organization. They're even more radical than we are."

Sanae sighed. "My sister knows nothing of politics. She doesn't know that these things take time. What's this group now?"

"It's called Hatanaka. We don't know much about them; they don't let in foreigners. And Azami was our last Neo-Japanese member." Nixie explained to Sanae. "I don't think that we'll ever know what they're up to."

Suddenly, Jarek had an idea. "Hey, Sanae, you're 100 Neo-Japanese aren't you?"

"Yeah, why…. Oh no…" She realized what he was thinking. "No! My parents would kill me! And if you expect me to pretend like I'm one of those crackpot idealists…"

"… It's a great idea. It would help us out a lot," Nixie pleaded. "And if your sister's in with these people and they turn out to be bad, it could hurt her. You still care for her, don't you?"

"Why should I? She got herself into this mess," Sanae mumbled. "I don't want to bail her out."

"Some sister you are." Jarek said dryly. "Do you think I like working my ass off to help out my brother?"

"You don't seem to understand Azami's mindset. DJN was in Neo Japan, you must know how the people there work."

"Yes," Nixie said. "They're at the opposite side of the spectrum. So bitter over what happened that they're not at all willing to acknowledge that Neo Japan did make some mistakes."

Sanae thought back to her history classes. "Didn't that cause a war a long time ago?"

Jarek blinked. "I think so…"

"Yes," Nixie said. "In Germany. Before the colonies came about."

"Germany? How do you know this? That must be from the twenty-first century at the latest!"

"Twentieth, actually," Nixie replied. "Don't you ever remember learning about that dictator? I know it's mentioned in history class."

"Is Neo Germany where you're from?" Sanae asked, noticing as if for the first time the older woman's accent.

The blonde nodded. "It resulted when a nation was forced into poverty due to blame from a previous war. Sound familiar? The resulting war was worse than the previous one in many ways."

That triggered something in Sanae's mind. After all, she had just learned about this. "World War II."

Jarek shrugged. "What's your point, Nixie? I mean history lessons are nice and all, but…"

"I'm afraid," the Neo-German said, "that if power in Neo Japan falls into the wrong hands, history may repeat itself. Hatanaka not letting foreigners in is a bad sign."

"They can't get very far, what with the council. What are we worried about?" Sanae sighed.

"They're trying to get in with the Council."

Sanae rolled her eyes. "What makes them think that they'll succeed?"

This time, Jarek broke in. "They have every reason to think so. They have Zéphyrine Briel."

"Who?"

"A French opera singer."

"She's French?"

"Yes, but she's half Japanese, and she's also damn useful to them."

"Jarek, how do you know this?" Nixie asked curiously. She had never heard anything about Hatanaka taking on a French woman: she had doubted Hatanaka would accept even half-Japanese people.

"I met her," Jarek said. "I won—let's drop the stupid aliases—de Sand back, remember? Well, I did that by attending a social gathering with him, and he introduced me to what he called a charming young soprano by the name of Zéphyrine Briel."

"What was she like?"

"Sweet, very pretty—exceptionally charming and clever. She talked to me in Russian—you know singers, they're great linguists. Anyway, she seemed to take a liking to me, and once I was successfully won over she started on about her cause."

"She admitted to being in Hatanaka?" Nixie asked suspiciously.

"Why wouldn't she? No one in Hatanaka is ashamed to be there. It's so brazenly foolish that it is, of course, brilliant. They're not sneaking around and giving each person ten thousand names like we are."

"Right. Then what?" Sanae asked, eager to hear the rest.

"We got talking politics, really subtly introduced into the conversation. She found out that I regretted what was being done to Neo Japan... and then she told me that she's half Japanese—it's hard to describe what she looks like, you'd spend maybe ten minutes wondering if she was Asian and then you would decide against it, and of course you would be wrong—and then said that she does work for an organization called Hatanaka, which is trying to help Neo Japan "get back on its feet"—that's the phrasing she used—and if I would ever like to donate money to them, she and the people of Neo Japan would be so appreciative."  
"No, no, no." Sanae interrupted. "This doesn't make sense. Council members aren't so stupid that a pretty face could influence their politics."

"Maybe not, but it certainly helps. Once I got back to headquarters I researched this woman... She's quite the pistol: schmoozes up to the important people, finds out information, even gives concerts to raise money for the organization. And this is pretty much a hobby for her, since she still finds time to be in performances."

"Question is, will they drop her once she gets them what they want?"

"I'm not sure," Jarek shrugged. "But if they do drop her, she'll just land on her feet. You know, like a cat. She'll just walk away, purring the entire time. I mean, she has a dazzling career, so she doesn't have to worry. It's important to her, but it doesn't consume her like with Azami.

"So if Azami ever gets to meet her, those two will definitely clash," Sanae mused. "She can't stand people like that, and she's stupid enough to blow everything just because she has a bad temper."

"I already figured that, which is why I think she might still come back. She won't want to work for an organization that is influenced so much by a person like that. We might still have our spy, after all. But, just in case, Sanae should join."

"Great," Sanae muttered. "Don't you think my sister will recognize me?"

Nixie suddenly thought of something. "Hey, why don't we try to get Sanae in with that French woman? If she has a lot of influence, and if Sanae gets on her good side..."

"Hold on one moment here!" Sanae interrupted. "I'm not a member of your organization, and I don't want to get involved in these stupid politics!"

"Don't you want your sister back?" Nixie asked.

Sanae sighed. "Mom does. I have no idea why, considering that Azami gave her more of a headache than dad, and that's saying a lot."

"This will be your best way to keep an eye on her." Jarek pointed out.

"And, Sanae, these people are extremists. You like Neo Hong Kong, don't you? It could be bad news for them if Hatanaka gets what it wants."

"My parents will shoot me." She muttered.

"Hey, my parents were angry when I first joined DJN, but they got over it."

"I'm not joining!" She insisted. "I'll do your dirty work, but I won't be a member. I don't like DJN. I don't want the Gundam Fight back. Why are you guys such damn extremists? Can't there just be a group that says "We want the horrible conditions placed on Neo Japan revoked!" Not "We want the Gundam Fight back!" or "We want Neo Japan to rule the world!" Why is that such a foreign concept?"

"I don't feel like debating you on the Gundam Fight," Jarek said. "But you've been listening to your parents too much."

"At least I've been listening more than you and Azami have," Sanae retorted. "If the Gundam Fight is brought back, then all of the Earth will suffer like Neo Japan is! Why should I care about Neo Japan, anyway? If they had gotten their way, we'd all be under the jurisdiction of the Devil Gundam right now!"

"Innocent people are suffering, Sanae," Nixie said patiently. "Should Neo Japan's citizens have to suffer for what someone in its government did? Let's not forget that Neo Hong Kong wasn't innocent, either."

"Whatever. Point is, I'm only doing this for my mother, and to stop Hatanaka. I don't want to get tangled in your miserable politics."

"Fair enough," Jarek caught Nixie's eye, and both grinned at each other. The youngest Kasshu girl was more like her sister than she would have cared to admit.

Even though the DJN was on the verge of collapse, they still managed to get Sanae to a lawn party that was being held by the Neo Italian ambassador at his sumptuous mansion, which the French opera singer Zéphyrine Briel was supposedly going to attend. To ease any possible suspicions, Sanae would go alone—something that wasn't the least bit comforting to her.

At least, she thought, as she wandered the beautiful grounds amidst the flood of people, she had an excuse to dress up. Unlike her sister, Sanae loved dresses and high heels and makeup, and for this particular function she had chosen a light, flowing summer dress and a simple pair of high heels. Her hair was down, and her only jewelry was a simple strand of pearls fastened around her neck.

Sanae, however, had one problem: she had no idea exactly where this woman was, or what she even looked like, aside from Jarek's vague description—"chestnut hair and dark eyes." Suddenly, she heard a voice.

"Mademoiselle Kasshu!"

He looked vaguely familiar to her; she couldn't quite place it though.

"Yes?"

"It is I, George de Sand. You do not remember me? I am a good friend of your parents... Alas, I haven't visited for some time now; I am so busy..."

"George de Sand... Oh, of course!" She cried. "I'm surprised you remembered me."

"It's your blue eyes—your mother's eyes. Your sister has them, as well. All of the Kasshu women... So, what are you doing here?"

Sanae grinned. "I'm on a mission. Do you know if... oh no, what's her name again... that French opera singer is here?"

"Mademoiselle Zéphyrine Briel?" He paused, thinking. "She is here, I saw her a bit earlier. I'll help you find her."

"Thank you very much!" Sanae exclaimed, truly relieved that someone she knew was there. What she didn't know was that George de Sand had been fully aware that Sanae was there, and why, and that this had all been prearranged. She also did not know that George de Sand knew perfectly well where Zéphyrine Briel was at this very moment.

She was, of course, by the table filled with hors d'oeuvres, holding a glass of champagne in a well-manicured hand. Sanae did not know that it was her, but she figured that there was something about this woman. She was tall—not much shorter than Sanae's father, it seemed—and she somehow was draw attention to herself, even dispersed amongst a large crowd. No wonder she was a performer, Sanae thought.

"Mademoiselle Briel?" George asked, leading a rather timid Sanae over to the young woman. "May I have a moment?"

"Of course you may, George!" She smiled. Sanae could tell what Jarek had meant when he said that it was hard to tell if she was Asian. Had she not already known the answer, she would have been debating that for hours.

"_Tres__ bien!_ Mademoiselle Briel, this young lady is Sanae Kasshu: she's the daughter of a friend of mine. She tells me that she is very interested in your cause."

"My cause, dearest signor?"

"Why, Neo Japan of course—clearly you . And, my heavens, you're speaking in Italian? Mademoiselle, please do not forget your roots! We want everyone to remember that one of the most talented singers of our age is a Frenchwoman!"

"Half of her, anyway." Zéphyrine smiled. "Anyway, if you don't mind, I should like to speak with the signorina myself." Sanae nearly laughed at how she'd accented the Italian word to show that she'd used it merely to defy him.

"As you wish, mademoiselle." George gave a small bow and left.

"So, Sanae—was it? Is that a Japanese name? You're Japanese"

Sanae nodded. "Both of my parents grew up in Neo Japan."

"No wonder, then, you are so concerned. It is, after all, your homeland."

"Well..." Sanae admitted. "I didn't grow up there. I'm actually from Neo Hong Kong."

"Ah! So we have something in common! I am half Japanese, but I didn't grow up there, either—I'm from Neo France. _Non_ it does not matter where we are from! We are still connected to it, simply because it is our family's home. Your parents, my mother..."

"Right." Sanae felt a bit awkward, as her parents in actuality hated Neo Japan and wouldn't live there even if they were paid to, even without the bad conditions.

Zéphyrine continued smiling, unaware of Sanae's discomfort. "If you are interested, I do some work for an organization interested in bestowing rights to the poor beleaguered country—"

"Hatanaka, you mean."

The singer's face lit up. "Ah! You are familiar with us, then! Yes, Hatanaka."

"Yes... and I'm wondering: can I do something to help?"

She smirked. "Want an in with Hatanaka, do you?"

"What..." How had she known?

As if she'd heard her question, the Eurasian woman laughed—a rather musical laugh, Sanae observed.

"Dear mademoiselle, do you honestly believe that you are the first to have tried this?"

"I..." Sanae's face fell. "I'm sorry."

Zéphyrine waved a hand carelessly. "Don't be! Did I say no? But I must tell you, _ma chérie,_ that I am most picky. But this is hardly a proper place to discuss it... would you care to meet me for lunch tomorrow, perhaps?"

"A-alright."

Sanae smoothed her skirt down nervously from her spot at a table in a restaurant that was decorated more beautifully than her entire house. She had spent nearly an hour picking out what to wear to lunch with Zéphyrine, and she still wasn't entirely convinced that she had made the right decision. It was a miracle, she thought, that she'd even found the restaurant, which was located inside some fancy hotel.

Would the French woman be early? Or, would she be fashionably late? Would she even show? Sanae's parents had saved the world, and she had grown up knowing their friends who had also saved the world, but she was unaccustomed to meeting with famous singers—that is, someone whom she assumed was famous. Sanae was admittedly not much into the opera scene. It was, quite literally, an ancient form of the performing arts. And there were different types of opera, too: so many went back not only to the A.D. timeline, but to centuries before it! Later in the A.D. period, a lot of opera had been considered old!

Still, it remained surprisingly popular because of socialites and rich people who liked to get dressed up to sit in a plush chair to hear some fat lady sing in a language they didn't even understand. Sanae shook her head. She liked what people referred to as 20th century opera: things like _Wicked_ and _Les Misérables_. Though even those, she mused, were in English—which she could understand, but not terribly fluently.

"Ah! There you are, _chéri_!" Sanae's thoughts were interrupted by a tall Eurasian woman, who was walking towards her. One would have thought that she would be in a rush, but no: Zéphyrine Briel was a picture of elegance and grace as she smoothly headed towards Sanae, wearing tottering stilettos but looking as comfortable as though she had been wearing flats.

"Hello," Sanae said rather shyly as Zéphyrine air-kissed her, a gesture that Sanae had really only seen in old movies. She supposed that this was a French thing: George de Sand was always kissing women's hands, and she had seen Maria Louise greet people in similar manners. Still, that knowledge made her no more comfortable.

"I hope that you weren't waiting too long?"

"No, not at all—I had just gotten here, myself."

"_Tres__ bien!_"

Sanae was eager and nervous to discuss the matter which had resolved in their meeting like this: naturally, the Frenchwoman took her sweet time in approaching it. It was not until after they'd ordered and gotten their meals that she said much to Sanae.

"So, you wish to gain influence in Hatanaka, _non_ I must ask: why is that?"

"I want to help Neo Japan without having to climb up a social ladder." It was amazing how easily lying came when one was looking into the dark eyes of Zéphyrine Briel.

But the young woman saw through it. "No, no, I can see that is not the real reason. It is much deeper than that—and better, too, I hope."

"Yes, you're right." Sanae took a deep breath. "Okay, my sister recently joined and I… I don't trust her." Well, it was worth a try.

"_Votre__ seour_?" A slight frown came to Zéphyrine's glossy lips.

"Yes… she's never been the trustworthy sort. She ran away to join a secret organization when she was a teenager. My parents had no idea where she was! We were all so worried… she broke their hearts, Miss Briel."

"Call me Zéphyrine," the soprano insisted.

"Oh, Zéphyrine, my sister has no loyalty whatsoever. Just recently, I found out that she left Doshite Ja Nai to join Hatanaka…"

"She left Doshite Ja Nai for Hatanaka?" Now the woman was frowning again. "Well, that is not unusual. But, you are right: I do not trust anyone from that particular group. It is foolish, I tell Ryo, to let them in so easily… What if they are spies, I say? And he replies to me that he is not worried! Not a little! And I wonder, how can he not be, when it is Neo Japan at stake?" Zéphyrine sighed dramatically, then continued: "He grew up there! I did not grow up there, no, and I care more about it than he does! Why, I ask, do the people who are from there care about it less than those who are not? You and I, are we not from there! Yet we care more!"

Her tirade was long, but she wasn't even winded. She immediately became self-possessed once more, and smiled serenely.

"Yes, Sanae, I think that we are much alike. Tell me," she leaned forward a bit. "Do you like the opera?"

"I…" Sanae paused. "I've never seen one."

"Oh! Never seen an opera? A pretty, classy girl like yourself? Oh! What a travesty!"

"My family…"

"Do not make excuses; there is still time! In fact, this is how you can be of service to me. This is how you can work your way into Hatanaka, and then you can keep an eye on your sister and the other former Doshite Ja Nai members…"

Sanae smiled at her, though inside she was horrified. Jarek and Nixie had better be thankful for this, she thought grudgingly.

"It doesn't sound too glamorous, I am afraid. But you can be my assistant! Does that please you?"

"Sure, anything I can do to help."

"_Je__ suis désolé_, you won't be able to see me perform so much. But I promise that one night, you shall get to watch me! Anyway, this is not your usual performance, with an opera company—no, it is rather something I am doing to help…"

"What is it?"

Her eyes lit up—clearly, Zéphyrine loved performing, in addition to Neo Japan. "Oh, but you do not know! No, no, how would you?" She shook her head. "I do not know what I say! If you have not seen an opera, how would you?" She looked a bit angry with herself; then, in a flash, the expression was gone and once more she was smiling pleasantly.

"The first one is simple enough—it is a concert, of many arias that I like, that people like, that is of course for charity—the proceeds go to Hatanaka! A Hatanaka representative—not me, of course, they don't like to advertise that I am a member because that makes it look self-indulgent—is going to be there. It will look so good, so good!"

Sanae nodded, wondering exactly what she was getting herself into.

"The second, I suppose, is not so simple because it is an opera. You are familiar, perhaps, with _Madama__ Butterfly_?"

"Er…"

"A Neo-Japanese girl!" The singer was taken aback. "Of course, the opera is not much liked by Asians. It was popular in Europe, America, those places—notice that I am not saying neo, that is because it was before they became that. Asians, I think, found it offensive. And now, it is rarely performed, because it had controversy."

"Controversy?"

"_Oui_The view of Japanese in it, it was written by an Italian, you see. I do not know who wrote the original story, but it was based on something called "Madame Chrysanthemum," written by a Frenchman named Pierre Loti… You see, in that version, the Asian woman—she was not nice at all!"

Sanae wished that she'd get to the point. "And?"

"Well, someone I think knew that a story of an Asian woman abusing a white man was no good. Whose sympathy is aroused by that, you see? _Non_, it had to be fixed." Zéphyrine paused for dramatic effect. "So, they wrote a version in which the white man is bad to the Asian woman! Oh, much better; they loved it! But then the Asians were offended—why would the Asian let the white man do that to her? Why did people think that a Japanese woman would be so submissive?"

Oddly enough, Sanae felt her curiosity rising. "What's the story about?"

"A Japanese woman marries and falls in love with an American officer; he does not take the relationship seriously and eventually leaves her, marries someone else back in America, and later takes their only child away. So she commits _seppuku—_are you familiar with that tradition?—ritual suicide. The Eurasian woman laughed. "Oh, it sounds so stupid in the synopsis. But when you see it… oh, you cry, and you cry! It is the music, you see—her love, her devotion—that makes it beautiful."

"So you're going to be performing this?"

She nodded happily. "I am so excited! Just think of it, a story that has hurt Japan will now be helping it! We are turning it around on them! And all of the Japanese roles in it will be played by Neo-Japanese singers! The proceeds will go, of course, to Hatanaka. It is a charity production of _Madama__ Butterfly_, after all."

"And you will be playing… er… Butterfly?"

"Cio-cio-san!" Obviously, this role was very dear to her. "You must forgive my over-enthusiasm; I have never played Butterfly before. You see, the role of Cio-cio-san is a dramatic… But! It has been done before! And now I will do it, too. I never understood why the role is so very heavy when the girl is only fourteen years old! Though, I don't look very Asian, do I?" She sighed.

"You do in the face," Sanae assured her. "And your hair and eyes."

Zéphyrine sighed again. "Oh, but I am tall… Cio-cio-san would not have been tall!" She looked at Sanae. "Oh, if only you did opera—you would be perfect! Though, your eyes… Those can be fixed, however…"

"But I don't do opera."

"Why write an opera character's role to fit someone who could never play her?" Zéphyrine irritatibly asked an invisible Giaccomo Puccini. "If only we could dub you…" She looked thoughtful.

"That would be so tacky," Sanae said, without thinking. Then she realized what she said, and prayed that the soprano would not be offended.

"Ha ha! You are so right. Isn't it interesting? My parents would be like in the story: a white man and an Asian woman. But he didn't abandon her, and she didn't kill herself! Ooh, then I'd have to call myself Trouble." She laughed at what had apparently been a joke that was too high over Sanae's head. So she just nodded.

"You would make a bad Cio-Cio-san, anyway," Zéphyrine said. "Your eyes are blue. You say you are entirely Japanese?"

Sanae was a bit annoyed by that. "Who's to say that Japanese women can't have blue eyes? You didn't grow up there, you said, so you wouldn't know."

"Ahh, you're too fiery! Cio-Cio-san would never say something so bold! The part is all wrong for you. It's understandable: you are a real Japanese woman. Cio-Cio-san is not—someone invented her."

Sanae was sick of politics. It was just an opera! "When is that concert you were talking about?"

Zéphyrine's eyes lit up at the chance to talk about it. "Not far away at all—in a week! You will find, _mademoiselle_, that I give a lot of concerts. The more money for Neo Japan, the better! And, to do it by singing! Oh! To do things that I love all at once!" She sighed happily.

"What operas will you be singing from?" Sanae asked, and the French soprano proceeded to rattle off a great deal of foreign names. She may as well have been speaking in French. Which, Sanae assumed, was probably true in regards to some of the titles. French, Italian, and German.

Zéphyrine, meanwhile, was continuing to rattle off names.

"… And _Die Fledermaus_. That is all, I think. You are familiar with some?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You will be! You cannot work for me and not be. And perhaps, if you do well, you could attend one with me."

"You see operas, in addition to performing them… and in addition to doing work for Hatanaka?" Sanae asked incredulously.

Zéphyrine shrugged. "I am an artist before I am a political tool. It just so happens that my line of work is helpful to a cause I believe in."

"So if you had to choose between your line of work and Hatanaka…"

The singer's face contorted. "What kind of question is that? If that is to happen, which it is not, I will not think about that day! Oh, why would you even ask such a thing?"

Her answer, though unspoken, was clear. Sanae made a note of this. If Zéphyrine Briel was Hatanaka's biggest fundraiser and supporter… She made an apology to the Frenchwoman, who regained her composure.

"Ah, it is alright. You were just curious, that is all. Anyway, the new representative, Asano, will be at my concert. We have yet to hear if he will be attending the opera, but… You know that we are trying to get him in our pocket, _non_?"

Sanae had yet to hear Zéphyrine sing, but hopefully she was better at that than she was at politics. She was spilling out her plans to someone who was practically a stranger! Azami would certainly never do that. Sanae had a feeling that, if the two faced off, her sister would win—famous singer or not.

**Author's Notes:**

You're probably starting to see the WWII references I'm making. If you know the origin of the name "Hatanaka," it's probably even more obvious. Nixie only talked about Germany, though, because she doesn't know much about WWII Japan. Sanae doesn't either: she's a med student, not a history student.

"20th century opera" is what we know as the modern musical. If you called those things operas today you would probably get lynched, but in the future the distinctions have pretty much vanished, so everyone just knows it all as opera.

Zéphyrine Briel is, yes, a new character. She will be very important, and a rather unifying element to my story (which probably has seemed quite disjointed. I swear I'm not making stuff up as I go!) Singing-wise, I based her off of the French lyric coloratura soprano Natalie Dessay. Not personality-wise, mind you: that I made up myself. I'm not sure if she's annoying: she isn't to me, but I have the feeling some might perceive her as such. On the outside she's a bit of your stereotypical Frenchwoman, but deeper down there's a lot more to her. In other words, she's a lot more like Azami than one would think.

The stuff about _Madame Butterfly_ is all true, from the origins to the politics. I referenced Puccini up there: he's the composer, in case you didn't know.

- SporkGoddess


	8. Of Blue Eyes and Bells

Second installment of this update. Again, more notes at the bottom. I have some things to say, but I don't want to spoil anything.

- SporkGoddess

Doshite Ja Nai 

**Chapter**** 8: Of Blue Eyes and Bells**

"Will you be attending the benefit concert this weekend?"

Azami glanced up, annoyed at being interrupted. She was at a computer, working on a press release regarding the aforementioned concert given by some French snob.

"No. If I wanted to listen to high-pitched squealing in a language I don't understand, I'd go punch a Frenchman."

Kenji blinked. "You don't go for the music. You go for the cause."

"The cause isn't worth the music," she said shortly, resuming her typing. "Why is this woman in the group, anyway? She isn't Japanese."

"She's half-Japanese."

"If you have standards, you ought to stick to them no matter how famous she is." Azami grumbled. _Sell-outs_.

"You would do best not to insult Miss Briel around here," Kenji told her.

"What would some canary know about politics? About the real world?" The young woman shot back.

"Miss Briel was born in Neo-Japan. She knows what conditions are like there, firsthand. You're from Neo Hong Kong, aren't you?"

"Shut up, I have work to do." Azami snapped.

"You need to go to this. You think that she doesn't know about politics? You don't either, otherwise you would know that if you don't attend this you will be stuck typing up reports for the rest of your life. You won't ever get to help Neo Japan in the way you want to. Hatanaka is a political organization, and if you want power you're going to have to work for it. Midori, I'm telling you this as a concerned individual, not your boss."

"Why the hell should I have a boss? We're all working for the same cause." Azami was fuming. Politics were such bullshit! She'd had power in the DJN, and she hadn't had to gain it by sitting through a night of hearing some singer's caterwauling. She'd liked Hatanaka at first, but the more she learned about it the more it grated on her. What good was an institution? She had been told that Hatanaka was an intimate group. They called this intimate?

"We need organization, or things will just be a mess." Kenji told her calmly. Before joining Hatanaka, he had been a journalist, so he was used to trying to logically convey information to people who didn't necessarily want to hear it.

"Sugar-coat it all you want." She glared at him.

Kenji sighed. Most people would not conduct themselves this way with their boss, but this girl was crazy. He should have demoted her a long time ago. But, there was something about her that he liked. Passion, straightforwardness. He liked it, and guessed that Ryo would like it. Jun as well. But he knew that Zéphyrine Briel would hate this woman, and the two would be enemies. Both were self-centered and needed to get their own way, to hear what they wanted to hear. They would instantly clash.

For that reason as well as her conduct, Kenji should have stopped pressing the issue. Let Midori stay low-key, sitting at a computer all day. She wouldn't make any enemies and she would still be working for a cause that she liked.

But… no… this woman had too much potential for that. She had fire, determination. He thought back to the war that interested today's modern Neo-Japanese person the most: that old war, back in the A.D. timeline. Japan had fought to gain that which had been taken from it by other countries. Its fighters had believed in the cause so much that they would be killed, or kill themselves, before admitting defeat. Sometimes they would give up their lives just for one shot. They had nearly conquered the world. _Kamikaze_.

He smiled. Midori had that attitude about her. The attitude that nearly everyone in Hatanaka possessed. The attitude which was: take back that which is ours, or die trying.

Azami went to the concert.

It hadn't been an easy decision, but in the end she decided that she could subject her ears to torture for a few hours if it meant gaining more power to help Neo Japan. Though, damnit, she had to dress up now. She'd thought that she'd been done with that the minute she left DJN for Hatanaka. But, it turned out that now she would have to dress up even more. She resisted the urge to tear her program in two.

The program! "_Vivez__, Neo Japan_," the benefit was called. The mixture of the two languages made her sick. And so did the headshot of the woman called Zéphyrine Briel inside. She was smiling serenely, apparently unaware of the seriousness of this matter. Azami wanted to yell at her for being so unconcerned about this. No wonder all she was doing for them was singing, Azami thought bitterly. Anyone can sing!

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a hand tapping her arm.

"Emiko?"

She jumped and looked around. Sitting next to her was none other than Asano! What the hell, she thought, what were the odds of that?

"Hello," she said, suddenly aware that she had pretty much just thrown on whatever dress she had around, and haphazardly put up her hair.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh, hell with it. She wasn't working for DJN anymore. What would she have to lose now?

"I recognized you even after all this time," Asano said softly. Her face felt a bit hot.

Well, she would lose him. Would that upset her?

"I… I have to tell you something."

Suddenly, the lights darkened, and the famous French soprano appeared onstage. With her were two Neo Japanese men. They all began to talk, but Azami wasn't paying attention. She was trying to figure out how to phrase this.

"My name isn't really Emiko. It's… you see, I go by a lot of names."

"Eh?"

"It's Azami. My real name, that is." Why had she told him her real name?

"That's a pretty name, too." A politician like Asano must have been used to people constantly lying, so he wasn't very phased. "But why didn't you tell me that?"

"I… was nervous." Azami lied. "Meeting such an influential person…" God, did that sound as lame to him as it did to her?

"I'm not sure if I believe that," Asano said. "But I like how mysterious you are. You're as alluring as your eyes…"

"Why aren't you with any security?" Azami asked, ignoring his comment.

"Should I be?"

"You're an important person."

He laughed. "Yeah, sure I am. The only people who have interest in me are groups like this one, which credit me with a power that I don't have."

"An attitude like that is why Neo Japan still suffers."

"You're very passionate… I like that."

The two suddenly stopped talking: the introductions had finished and now Zéphyrine Briel was beginning to sing.

_Ah…_

That was all that she sang. "Ah." Well, at least it was understandable! French soprano had a beautiful voice, as far as Azami could tell anyway. But there was no music even to accompany it. What the…

Suddenly, she sat forward in her seat as the singing became more and more complicated and soared higher and higher. Then, just as soon as it had come, it vanished.

She was dimly aware that Asano had put his hand on hers. The nerve of that man! And… yet… she didn't pull away.

Suddenly, the music started: a haunting melody…

_Où__ va le jeune Indoue,_

_Fille__ des Parias,_

_Quand__ la lune se joue_

_Dans__ les grands mimosas?_

_Quand__ la lune se joue_

_Dans__ les grands mimosas?_

_Elle court sur la mousse_

_Et__ ne se souvient pas_

_Que__ partout on repousse_

_L'enfant__ des parias._

_Elle court sur la mousse,_

She was having a grand time with the notes; her voice was going all over. Azami couldn't believe how pretty the song was. And she hated this kind of stuff!

_L'enfant__ des parias;_

_Le long des lauriers roses,_

_Rêvant__ de douces choses,_

_Ah!_

_Elle passe sans bruit_

_Et__ riant à la nuit à la nuit!_

The singer's voice went even higher, higher than she had known it was possible to sing. And Azami found that she was very aware of how warm Asano's hand was against her own…

_Là__-bas dans la forêt plus sombre,_

_Quel__ est ce voyageur perdu?_

_Autour__ de lui des yeux brillent dans l'ombre,_

_Il__marche__ encore au hasard éperdu!_

_Les fauves rugissent de joie,_

_Ils__ vont se jeter sur leur proie_

_La jeune fille accourt et brave leurs fureurs,_

_Elle a dans sa main la baguette_

_Où__ tinte la clochette, où tinte la clochette_

_Des charmeurs._

Bells started to ring, soft, tinkling, little bells, in a rapid pace. And then the soprano's voice followed suit.

_Ah! ah! ah!_

She mimicked the sound of the bell, going just as high and clear as the instrument.

_L'étranger__ la regarde,_

_Elle reste éblouie,_

_Il__ est plus beau que les Rajahs!_

_Il__ rougira s'il sait qu'il doit la vie_

_A la fille des parias._

The more the woman sang into the song, the more rapturous her voice became, as though she were seeing heaven. Azami tore her eyes away and looked at Asano. He, too, looked quite taken with the music. Azami supposed that a rich politician should like stuff like this.

_Mais__ lui, l'endormant dans un rêve,_

_Jusque__ dans le ciel il l'enlève,_

_En lui disant: ta place est là!_

_C'était__ Vishnou, fils de Brahma!_

_Depuis__ jour au fond des bois,_

_Le voyageur entend parfois_

_Le bruit léger de la baguette_

_Où__ tinte la clochette,_

_Où__ tinte la clochette_

_Des charmeurs._

Once more, the bells sounded—both the instruments and the singing.

_Ah! ah! ah!_

The bells were all over the place. In the orchestration, in the singing, and in Azami's ears as Asano's grip on her hand tightened slightly. Her throat felt dry; she suddenly felt as though she had been the one singing all of those crazy high notes…Why had she enjoyed that? She hated that type of music. Had she really been enjoying the song for the song? Or, rather, had she been enjoying it for another reason? She glanced over at the man next to her.

Suddenly, it hit her. How stupid! And this man, what a liberty! Who did he think he was? And, who did he think _she _was? She wasn't that demure Emiko girl like he thought. She was Azami Kasshu, daughter of a famous martial artist and political spitfire, who was going to set the universe ablaze with justice for Neo Japan! The only good Asano could do her was to help her country!

She pulled her hand away. A new piece started: equally high, but not nearly as haunting or pretty.

Azami sat through the rest of the concert, not daring to look at Asano, ignoring him studiously as she felt she should. She listened to the music but found most of it bland and undesirable to listen to. Near the end, though Azami did not know it, Zéphyrine Briel wound down the night with Rossini's "Una voce poco fa." The Frenchwoman was singing part of it, hoping to convey to everyone the spirit of the message. In the aria it was about overcoming all odds to win the love of a man… A sheltered girl who had no reason to hope, but did so anyway. As she sang it now, Zéphyrine knew exactly how Rosina had felt. She sang it now with the same intensity. But she did not sing it about a man. No, instead she sang it about a country, about a people—Neo Japan. Against all odds, they would win, provided that everyone be prepared to fight.

_Lo giurai, la vincerò_—I've sworn it, I'll win.

_Sarò__ una vipera e cento trappole prima di cedere farò giocar…_

… I'll be a viper and I'll catch them in a hundred traps…

But Azami did not know Italian. Even if she had, she was too busy scolding herself for letting herself have been weakened by a smooth-talking politician to notice any special meaning in the words.

Sanae Kasshu did not know that her sister was at the concert as she waited for Zéphyrine to return backstage. The concert was over, and Sanae actually enjoyed the music, acknowledging that the woman, indeed, had a very pretty voice. She wished that she could sing that high. She should have taken voice lessons… But, no matter, she thought. After all, something else was on her mind: something that she had read in the program, which she had been skimming out of boredom, which had caught her attention and aroused her suspicion.

"There you are, Sanae!" It was Keiko, one of the other girls working there tonight. Zéphyrine had three other lackies, as Sanae secretly called them; two of the three being Japanese. Sanae didn't understand what for: she had barely done anything all night, other than fetch the soprano a water bottle and assure her that her hair and makeup indeed looked fantastic.

"Is Miss Briel around?"

"She's busy, why?"

"Oh… I had a question for her."

"What would that be? Maybe I can help."

Sanae took out her program and turned to the page she had marked by folding over one of the corners. "It says in her profile that she lived in Neo Japan. She told me that she didn't."

"Oh, that. Is it so complicated?" Keiko asked. "She lived in Neo Japan when she was younger… I want to say she left when she was around eight"

"She didn't tell me that."

"It's not something that she likes to talk about. You know what life is like for people there."

"You'd think that she would be exploiting that further."

"Give her some credit," Keiko scolded. "She isn't without integrity."

"Yes, but to further her cause…"

"She won't even talk about it to any of us. She says that it's too painful."

"I wonder why?" Sanae wondered.

Keiko laughed. "We all wonder that. But it doesn't do us much good to gossip, now does it?"

"I liked that first piece she sang tonight," Sanae said, hoping to change the subject.

Keiko's eyes lit up. "Oh, the Bell Song?"

"Is that what it's called?"

"Yes! Ooh, I love how she sings it." Keiko sighed dreamily.

"I didn't understand a word of it. It was in French, right?" Sanae asked.

The other Japanese girl nodded. "Zéphyrine explained it to me once, when I asked—it's my favorite, you see. Each of us have favorites of her repertoire. Like Remi, she likes "Juliette's Waltz" best. And Euphrasie, she likes "The Doll Song." Remi and Euphrasie were the other two girls who worked for Zéphyrine. Euphrasie wasn't Japanese and thus not a member of the DJN, so no one knew why Zéphyrine kept her around. Perhaps it was comforting to be with another French girl.

Sanae's head spun with all of the enumerated arias. Meanwhile, Keiko continued:

"She told me, if I remember right, that it's about a young girl, a priestess, who is in love with a young man her father, a holy man, deems a heathen. He doesn't know who the man is, so he has the girl sing that song—some religious legend—in the marketplace, hoping that when the young man passes he, or the girl, will give away some sign of recognition."

"Does she?"

"You know, I never asked," Keiko said thoughtfully. "I don't know much about it. I know that it's some French opera and Zéphyrine used to perform it constantly, but that was before we met up." She sighed, but then cheered a bit. "She did say that when she does the role again, if she ever does, she'll give me a ticket!"

"Hopefully someday, then," Sanae offered.

"Yes. I'm glad that you liked it, though." Keiko smiled.

Sanae didn't know that the aria had also affected Azami, and Azami did not know that the aria had been of a woman trying to hide her emotions and love for a man that she knew she not ought to be with. Had she been told what Sanae had learned, she would have found the parallel interesting, frustrating, and perhaps even disturbing. But, she didn't know, and she was likely better off that way.

**Author's Notes:**

The WWII references are getting more and more frequent. I planned things this way. :D

Azami is back to her normal self, thank heavens. I was afraid that she would be similar to Sanae, but writing each girl is really quite different.

And, yes, Azami is falling in luuuve… but it won't be that easy. If you're a bit astounded by how quickly it's happening, keep in mind that they're young and idealistic. And if you're wondering why Asano is always by himself, he is very careful in the public eye. Azami just makes him forget to maintain that. Ahh, recklessness.

As for the new opera I heavily, heavily, rather shamelessly referenced, it is actually _Lakmé_ by the French composer, Delibes. You may have heard something from it called "The Flower Duet," which is really popular. Anyway, the aria in question is sung by the title character and is called "No 10 - Scene & Legende de la fille du paria (Air des clochettes) 'Ah!.. Ou va la jeune Hindoue'." You can just call it "the Bell Song," though, like Keiko did. The basic story as she summarized it is, for the most part, correct—the Hindu legend described in the aria, however, is about the daughter of a Pariah who saves the life of a stranger by ringing the magic bell on her wand. It turns out that the man is actually Vishnu, and he takes the Pariah's daughter up to paradise for saving him. It isn't the legend itself that is important, however, as much as the intent of Lakmé's father, which Keiko described.

I put the lyrics in its original language because that's how Azami would have heard it. And I didn't include an English translation because it would have taken up space and I would have to type it up. But, if you're really curious, let me know via a review and I could probably include it in the next chapter.

I listened to the aria while writing up that whole part, so I described it as best as I could. I think it's one of the prettiest things on earth, and I wish that I could give everyone an mp3 of it so they could get the full effect of this chapter. Alas, I cannot, so unless you hunt a copy down yourself you'll be stuck with my attempt at conveying what it's like. Ah well.

Other operas referenced:

"Una voce poco fa" from Rossini's _Il Barbiere di Siviglia_ – I described the situation of that, too: a man has fallen in love with Rosina, and serenaded her outside his window. She, having heard his song, has fallen in love with him too. However, she is the ward of an old doctor who wants to marry her himself, so a happy ending for Rosina doesn't look too likely. But she vows to make it happen no matter what she must do. Btw, the "Fiiigaro! Fiiiigaro! Figaro Figaro Figaro!" thing on Looney Toons was inspired by this opera.

"Juliette's Waltz" is from Gounod's _Romeo et Juliette_, and "The Doll Song" is from _Les Contes d'Hoffman_. Both are common lyric coloratura soprano repertoire: really high and swoopy. I'm trying to make Zéphyrine realistic, as in not being able to sing everything under the sun. So there won't be any _Carmen _or _Aida_ or anything, sorry—it's enough of a stretch to make her sing _Madame Butterfly_.

As for Zéphyrine's past… you'll find it out eventually. Oooh, mysterious! Actually, it's probably nothing that will really surprise you. I'll just say there's a reason that she's so darn obsessed with the Japanese part of her.

If you're wondering "How the heck is this related to G Gundam?"… well… I'm trying to put my own spin on things. If I wanted it to be entirely like G Gundam, I would have made it about the 20th Gundam Fight or something.

Stay tuned for more! Now that things are finally starting to tie together, I should be more motivated to work on this story.

- SporkGoddess


End file.
